


The Price of Survival

by ocean gazer (ocean_gazer)



Category: Walker Texas Ranger
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5612197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocean_gazer/pseuds/ocean%20gazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate ending to the episode "Survival." What if Walker didn't arrive in time to save Alex from the Trammel brothers?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New to posting here, so if I've messed something up, my apologies.
> 
> So, this was supposed to be just a short piece, an experiment in writing in present tense using third-person restricted POV. The next thing I knew, it had grown like kudzu. I have no idea what happened. I'm also not quite sure why my brain is stuck on such dark themes these days. If you haven't seen the episode "Survival," this story may not make a whole lot of sense. (It may not make a lot of sense even if you have seen it, but that's an entirely separate issue.) While there is mention of the Alex/Walker canon relationship, it's not the focus of the story. It's an Alex-centric story, with an emphasis on two of the minor characters in "Survival." If anyone is familiar with my writing, it's the kind of f/f friendship story I write when I'm not writing actual femslash...lol. Let's see...what else? Not beta read, so all mistakes are my own. Feedback is always appreciated and adored, but never required. Thanks for reading.

Alex shudders as she realizes that none of her screams or struggles are going to do any good. She's tied to the tree—wrists in straps above her head—and she can hear the snap of the bullwhip as Dwight approaches.

Normally, this is right about when Walker would show up to rescue her. But she doesn't think it's going to happen this time. She saw the trap the brothers built on the trail; she knows the chances are slim that any of her friends walked away unharmed from the rock slide it triggered.

"Rip her dress!"

She feels hands on her, hears the rip of the fabric, feels the chill as cold air hits her suddenly exposed back. She shudders again, closing her eyes against the inevitable. She doesn't regret her escape attempt—she'd needed to at least try and get help for herself, for the women in the cabin. She just wishes it hadn't been in vain.

She hears the snap of the whip, and a few moments later feels a line of fire across the middle of her back. She screams involuntarily, her eyes popping open with the shock of it. Dwight laughs, as does Luke, and the whip slashes across her shoulder blade, tearing another scream from her throat.

The two men continue laughing and their laughter flips a switch inside her brain. She suddenly feels deadly calm. There's no getting out of this one, no Walker bursting in to save her, nothing she can do to stop it. But she can refuse to give these monsters the satisfaction of seeing her break. As the whip lands again, Alex bites her lip bloody, screws her eyes shut. She can't keep from whimpering with the pain, but she doesn't scream.

She'll get through this. She'll do whatever is necessary to survive. But she'll never stop looking for a way out, never stop hoping that at least one of her friends survived, that someone will eventually come for her.

Those thoughts steady her, even as the whip lands again on her unprotected back, knocking her off-balance, making her lean forward against the tree trunk. She thinks of Walker, his strength, his courage. She thinks of Jimmy, his loyalty and humor. She thinks of Trent and Carlos, faithful friends. The prayer forms in her mind: _Please, God, let them all be alive._

She'll be strong for them. She'll be strong for her two fellow captives. She'll be strong for herself.

She doesn't know how long the whipping lasts, how many strokes fall. She's too focused on trying not to scream.

She hears Dwight's snort, hears the heavy tread of his footfall as he thuds over to her. A hand twists in her hair, pulls her head back, and her eyes snap open to find his face pressed up against hers. His lips twist in a contemptuous sneer. "Guess you're a little tougher than I thought," he says, his breath hot against her cheek. "Hope you're smarter, too. If I have to do this again, it'll be a whole lot worse."

There's no response she can think to make to that, especially not with pain pulsing through her back in time with every breath. She just stares blankly at him, breathing hard, and he snorts in dismissal, letting go of her hair and shoving her head forward. He moves away from her and bellows, "What are you two looking at? Vanessa, Sally—get back inside."

Alex sags against the tree trunk, hanging limply in her bonds, not quite sure what to expect next. She can hear movement behind her and tries to track it, only registering that the sounds are getting fainter. Anxiety and uncertainty rise in her. Are they going to leave her out here like this, injured and exposed to the elements?

She doesn't have time to ponder it much further before there's a presence beside her. She feels hands reaching up to her wrists, releasing the straps. Expecting to see either Dwight—the ringleader—or Luke—his faithful lapdog—she's surprised to find Buddy there with her. It's no surprise that he merely scowls at her, not saying anything, but he holds her up by the arms when she would have fallen, and is careful not to touch her wounds as he leads her back to the cabin.

When they step inside, Dwight is nowhere in sight. Luke grabs her away from his brother, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out at his rough, careless touch. He propels her over to a stool, pushes her down on it. He speaks over her head to the other women. "Get her cleaned up and make some dinner. We're double-checking the perimeter traps and we'll be hungry when we get back."

Luke stomps across the room and heads out the door. Buddy stares at her for a moment, eyes unreadable, before following his brother. The sudden absence of a threatening presence makes Alex light-headed with relief. She sags forward, slumping over, no longer bothering to try and hide her pain. She feels a gentle hand on her knee and looks up to see Sally kneeling in front of her, dark eyes full of worry.

Sally's presence is as surprising as Buddy's was. Of the two captives, Vanessa is the more talkative, the more outgoing, the one who's more open. But as Alex looks past Sally, she sees Vanessa standing at the kitchen counter, staring out the window, blue eyes brimming with tears. The young woman's expression shows traces of sympathy, but it mostly reflects disappointment and frustration.

Stung by the sudden sense that she's failed this woman, Alex stares down at the floor, feeling defeated.

A hand under her chin prompts her to look up again. Sally's staring at her, shaking her head. The other woman's voice is soft, low enough that it doesn't carry past her ear. "Nessa was hoping for a miracle. Not your fault she didn't get one. But we'll help her keep believing."

Alex blinks in confusion, feeling like she's missed a step in this conversation. Before she can even think of how to respond, Sally speaks again, in a normal tone this time. "You need to lie down. Come on."

She struggles to her feet, grateful for the steadying hand under her elbow. Every movement, every breath, hurts, but she tries to hide it, not sure if she's putting on the stoic facade for Vanessa's sake or for her own. She follows Sally into a tiny bedroom, blushes but doesn't protest when the dark-haired woman strips the ruined dress off of her, leaving her in only her underwear. She shivers violently—unsure whether it's from exposure, embarrassment, or shock. Not that it matters.

Without needing to be told, Alex lies down on her stomach on the bed. She's grateful when Sally covers her lower body with a blanket; it helps her feel marginally less vulnerable. Teeth chattering, she listens to the rustling sounds as the other woman searches through dresser drawers, apparently looking for something. To distract herself, she asks, "What about you? Are you still hoping for a miracle?"

In lieu of an answer, there's a dip in the mattress as Sally sits beside her. Alex hisses in pain as a finger tentatively touches one of the welts on her lower back. She feels the cold burn of the ointment Sally's rubbing into the wound, clenches her fists in the sheets and tries to control her shaky breathing.

It hurts far more than she'd expected and she blinks hard, trying to keep the tears from falling as Sally moves on to another lash mark.

"Surviving is my miracle." Sally's voice is flat, expressionless.

It takes a minute for Alex to connect the dots, to understand that this is the answer to the question she'd asked. She wants to say something, offer up something positive like "while there's life, there's hope." But she knows in an instant that the words would ring false to this woman. The tone of her voice is one Alex has heard before—in victims of extreme trauma, in survivors speaking of the experiences that broke them.

Compassion rises in her and she wants to sit up, wants to turn and look at this woman and ask what happened to her. She doesn't. She knows it's not the time or the place. And then, sharp pain flares to life and she's too busy coping with it to think of anything else.

The last thing she hears before darkness takes hold of her is "I'm sorry."

****** 

For three days, Alex lies in bed, unable to do anything except sleep and suffer in silence. Sally is there frequently, bringing her water, helping her to the bathroom, tending to her wounds with gentle, expert hands.

On the fourth day, Alex is able to get off the bed by herself. Her movements are slow and tentative; pain pulls at her with every step and she doesn't want to open the newly formed scabs on her wounds. Sally flutters nervously behind her as she painstakingly makes her way out to the common room and over to a stool pulled up to the table. The brief journey tires her more than she'd expected and she's thankful for Sally's hand under her elbow, helping her sit down with a modicum of grace when she would otherwise have fallen. Vanessa is all nervous chatter as she comes over to join them, and Alex manages a tiny smile to set the young woman at ease.

Sally comes back to the table before Alex even registers that she'd left, puts a bowl of fruit and a cup of water in front of her, presses Vanessa down into a chair. The young woman looks up in surprise and Alex sees the shrug Sally gives in response. After a moment, the dark-haired woman says simply, "The brothers will be gone for a while; they're checking for signs of pursuit. May as well relax while you can."

Alex watches thoughtfully as Sally moves swiftly away, turning back to the chores in the kitchen, but she's too tired and in too much pain to puzzle things out just yet. And Vanessa is all smiles and chatter, so Alex divides her attention between nibbling on an apple and listening to the young woman, vaguely amazed that after two years of captivity, Vanessa still has such a spark of life.

****** 

The next couple of weeks are much the same. The brothers spend the bulk of their time off looking for search parties, leaving the women mostly alone. That suits Alex just fine—she's still recovering from the whipping and she's just as happy to not see much of her captors.

She's discouraged every time the brothers rub it in her face that they haven't seen any signs of pursuit, but the news doesn't depress her the way she knows they want it to. If any of her friends survived that rock slide, then they'll come looking for her once they heal from whatever injuries it caused. She knows that as surely as she knows her own name. But she's enough of a realist to know it might take a while—the trail has long since gone cold and there's a lot of country to cover.

Her job is to not give up hope until they can find her.

She says nothing of this to the other women. She doesn't want to offer Vanessa any false hope, and Sally seems too defeated to believe her anyway.

Instead, she sits at the table with Vanessa day after day, helping with what few chores she can, and listening as the young woman talks about her large, close-knit family and her happy, carefree childhood. It's not long before she knows all of the woman's hopes and dreams for the future, and she's no little amazed that Vanessa can still hope and dream. Sally has gone back to being the mostly silent shadow who tends to Alex's healing wounds, but otherwise leaves the two of them alone, taking on the bulk of the responsibility for the chores and keeping things to the brothers' liking.

Alex knows this relative peace won't last. But she soaks it up while she can, and says a little prayer that someone will find them soon.

****** 

Alex lies in a fetal position, shivering in the cold of the room, eyes staring unseeing at the wall across from the bed. One small part of her mind knows she should move—cover herself with the blanket, get up and wash herself in the basin, do something. Most of her is frozen in shock and shame.

If there was one good thing about being whipped on her first day at the cabin, it was that the brothers hadn't laid a finger on her while her wounds healed. This morning, her reprieve from their attentions ended. She'd been sweeping the floor of the bedroom the women share when the brothers had burst in and cornered her.

She shudders as sense memories wash over her; she can still feel their hands and mouths on her body. All three stayed in the room and took multiple turns with her, holding her down, laughing at her wild struggles. She breathes hard, fighting nausea, as her mind replays various moments of the assaults: Buddy's weight pinning her to the bed, Luke's leering face and crude comments, Dwight's rough hands and brutal pounding.

She fists her hands, digs her fingernails into her palms hard enough to draw blood. The burst of pain helps her push away the memories. It doesn't help erase the fear and the shame.

In the back of her mind, she'd known all along that it would probably come to this. That the brothers wanted her for a very specific reason and were determined to have her, no matter what. After all, why else would they have kidnapped her in the first place? It was a huge risk to take, knowing she was traveling with Texas Rangers. If all they'd wanted was a simple domestic slave, there were much easier targets.

Knowing it, however, doesn't do a thing to change how she feels now. Dirty, humiliated, and terrified.

She hears the bedroom door creak open and cringes, her entire body going tense with terror. _Please God, no more. Not now._ She can't bear to go through that again.

The footsteps are light, too light to be any of the men, and Alex relaxes a fraction, though not much. She's all too aware that she's lying there naked, bruised and battered, the sheet beneath her stained with blood and fluids from the assaults. She shivers, both from cold and vulnerability, and closes her eyes.

The footsteps move closer and Alex feels the dip in the mattress as someone sits down near her head. It makes sense that Vanessa would come to check on her, even though she doesn't really want the other woman to see her like this. Over the past several days, she's come to understand that despite Vanessa's liveliness, the woman is a lot more fragile than she appears. Alex feels motherly towards her. She doesn't want to make the young woman worry about her.

She knows she should open her eyes, find something reassuring to say, but she can't seem to make herself. She feels a hand on her shoulder and her eyes do open then, in shock. It's Sally who's here with her. The dark-haired woman's comforting touch is completely familiar to Alex after days of having her wounds tended to.

She uncurls a bit, looking up to meet worried brown eyes. Sally reaches out, draws a blanket up over Alex's naked body, says simply, "Nessa's out picking apples. She wasn't here for any of it."

Alex feels her cheeks grow hot and she swallows hard. "Does...does she know?"

She sees the sympathy on the other woman's face. "That they were going to break you in, yes. How bad it would be, no."

She's not surprised when Sally stops there, since the woman typically doesn't say much. What surprises her is when Sally continues carefully, "Nessa knows what they're capable of, but she also only understands it in light of her own experience. I know you've noticed that they treat her differently than they treat us."

Alex nods slowly. Even though the brothers treat Vanessa as little more than a slave, they are far rougher in speech and manner towards her and Sally. She's just never thought much about the difference. Until now.

Sally's mouth quirks in a not-quite-smile. "Like all of us, she tried to escape early on and was caught. While I tended to her injuries, I told her that the only way to survive was to cooperate, to be submissive. At the same time, I told the brothers that she was too delicate for rough treatment and they'd kill her if they weren't careful with her. It was the only thing I could do to protect her."

Alex's mind is spinning. This is the most Sally's said to her at any one time and she can't quite put all the pieces together. She says slowly, "You never gave me that advice."

Sally's mouth quirks again. "Would you have listened?" The not-quite-smile drops off and dark eyes shine with concern. "I thought you were strong enough that you didn't need it. Was I...was I wrong?"

Alex opens her mouth in astonishment. After a moment, she says simply, "No."

And it's true. She's lost sight of it, perhaps, over the years, since Walker is always bursting in just in the nick of time to save her from her kidnapper-of-the-week. But despite that, she's not some naïve, delicate flower. Even with Walker's protective instincts keeping her from being killed many times over, she's still been roughed up plenty along the way, still faced numerous terrifying situations, still had to rely on herself to get through things. She's stronger than she sometimes gives herself credit for. She's a survivor.

And so is the woman sitting next to her. It's still not the time or place to ask just what the brothers have done to her, what they've put her through in the however-many-years she's been here. But the pieces click together in Alex's mind and she sees that Sally's worried, mother-hen fluttering isn't simply because she's scared of the brothers. It's because it's the only thing she can do to help protect the people around her.

Alex understands that, because she's done similar things. She's been in situations where she was the one most equipped to cope with the threat at hand, where she spoke up or stepped into the line of fire to divert attention and try to protect the innocents trapped with her.

"Thank you."

She doesn't miss the flash of surprise on the other woman's face at her words. Sally speaks slowly. "For what?"

Alex smiles at Sally's genuine confusion, even though it makes her split lip start bleeding again. "For protecting Vanessa. For being here with me now..."

The smile fades as she remembers why the dark-haired woman is here with her, as memories rush through her mind. She shudders, once again overwhelmingly aware of the pain in her body and her lack of clothing, and feels a hand brush through her hair. She tenses instinctively, then finds herself relaxing at the soothing caress.

It surprises her that she's comfortable being touched—she's known rape victims who could barely handle it when someone stood next to them. Then again, she's a touchy-feely sort, and her response to traumatic events is usually a need for hugs and comfort from those she's close to—though she suspects she'd be shying away from her male friends under these circumstances. And after days of sharing a bed with her fellow captives—though they all sleep in separate corners of it—and living in a tiny cabin where nothing is private, any sense of personal space she ever had with Sally has long since vanished.

She trusts Sally implicitly, in the same way that she trusts Walker, Jimmy.

So she closes her eyes, lets Sally stroke her hair. It isn't long before she's crying, releasing some of the pain and fear and shame. She hears Sally's soft murmurs, and though she can't understand the words, she knows in a way she can't explain that the other woman understands exactly how she feels.

She lets herself cry, lets herself be soothed and comforted by the gentle hand in her hair.

And maybe someday, if she's lucky, she'll be able to return the favor.

****** 

When Alex finally leaves the bedroom and limps out to the common room, sunlight is blazing through the kitchen windows, signaling that it's late afternoon. She stops in her tracks and blinks hard, momentarily disoriented. Sally had helped her clean herself up, then changed the bedsheets and pushed her back down on to the bed, suggesting she lie still and rest for a while. Physically exhausted and emotionally drained, she'd agreed. She just hadn't expected to sleep so long—to be left in peace to sleep so long.

Not that she really wants to leave the relative peace and quiet of the room. But she knows that it's best if she comes out on her own terms, rather than waiting until it becomes an order. It's the only bit of control she has and she'll be damned if she gives it up.

Vanessa is at the kitchen counter, chopping apples. Sally is across the kitchen at the wood stove, stirring something in the stew pot. The brothers are nowhere in sight. Both women turn and look at her as she slowly shuffles forward, coming to sit on a stool in a corner between the wood stove and the common room. She flinches as she sits down, but manages not to hiss in pain. She's not sure for whose sake she's trying not to show weakness.

Vanessa's relief at seeing her is obvious, though the young woman doesn't move away from her position at the counter. "I was getting worried," Vanessa says. "You were asleep for a long time."

The young woman pauses there and looks to Sally for a moment, as if weighing whether to say more. Alex watches them closely—Sally's expression is unreadable and after a few moments, Vanessa looks away, turning her attention back to Alex. "I know it's not pleasant...what they do..." the young woman stutters finally. "But you get used to it. Honest. Just cooperate and don't fight it. They didn't hurt you when you...when you submitted to them. Right?"

Alex freezes at that. Not because of what the woman said; she'd expected to hear as much after what Sally told her earlier. But because of the innocence shining out from Vanessa's light eyes, the innocence that hasn't yet been stamped out by the ordeals she's endured.

A fierce sense of protectiveness blossoms in Alex's heart. Ironic, she knows, that she's feeling protective when she's the one who's just been brutalized. But there it is. Under other circumstances, she'd be pushing the others to resist, to not make this easy for the brothers. Here, now—she knows it's not that simple. They each have to find their own way to get through this, to survive.

She's not going to stop fighting, not yet, but that's a path only she can choose to walk.

She glances quickly at Sally, not sure how to respond. The dark-haired woman's expression is still unreadable, though her eyes are worried, as they always seem to be. Sally offers a brief, one-shouldered shrug, clearly no more sure of how this should go than Alex is.

Alex chooses her words carefully. "It's true that cooperating would probably have led to less pain."

She hears the cabin door creak open as she's speaking, but ignores it. She's not going to stop mid-sentence and look like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. The brothers spill into the cabin and she stiffens at the sight of them. Luke leans against the doorjamb watching her, a smirk on his face. Dwight steps into the center of the room, while Buddy heads into the kitchen and leans his backside against the counter a few feet away from Vanessa.

Dwight growls, "I told you not to worry about her. She'll learn her place. Stop your gabbing and get back to work!"

She can see Vanessa jump a little as Dwight yells at her. The young woman gives her a tight, watery smile, then turns back to chopping apples as though her life depends on it. And maybe it does.

Alex hears Dwight's heavy tread coming across the floorboards towards her and it takes everything she has to not get off the stool and flee, even though she knows she can't possibly move fast enough to get away from him. His hand presses down heavily on her shoulder and her entire body thrums with tension and fear. He laughs at her discomfort and Luke joins in from across the room. He leans down, whispers in her ear, "Before we're done with you, little filly, you'll learn to relax and enjoy it."

She shudders and turns her head away. As shows of defiance go, it's weak. But it's the best she can do under the circumstances. He laughs again, then releases her shoulder with a little shove and moves away, heading towards the room he and Luke share at the back of the cabin, probably planning to get high before dinner. Luke follows his older brother, smirking at her as he passes by.

Once they're gone, she releases a shaky breath and clenches her hands into fists, trying to regain some sense of calm and control. She finds Sally watching her and the understanding she sees in dark eyes helps steady her. Whatever else may happen, she's not alone.

She casts a surreptitious glance at the remaining brother, but he's not paying any attention to her. She watches him dig into his pocket and hand Vanessa a small glass jar—filled with honeycomb and honey. The young woman smiles at him, and he moves away, heading Alex's direction. She instinctively flinches, but he ignores her, walking past her to sit down at a chair at the rough-hewn table a few feet away. Momentarily, she hears sounds that have become familiar to her in recent days—he's cleaning and sharpening his hunting knives.

She's still tense because of his proximity, but he doesn't scare her the way the other two do. She's not sure why.

She leans forward slightly on the stool, hugging herself as she tries to get herself together. Her mind turns to Walker, as it always does in times of fear or stress. Thoughts of his strength and courage steady her, help her find her own strength and courage.

When she'd first been dragged to this cabin, what she wanted most was for Walker to arrive in the nick of time and save her, as he'd done so many times before. Now she wants two other things, equally badly.

She wants to know that Walker is still alive. That Jimmy and Trent and Carlos are alive. She can't bear the thought that they all might have died on that mountain because of her.

And she wants to find some way to get Vanessa and Sally out of here. To get herself out of here.

She takes a deep breath, releases it. She hopes the strength of those wants is enough to help keep her going. She's pretty sure life here with the brothers is only going to get worse.

****** 

The next several days are sheer hell. Every afternoon, the brothers send Vanessa out to forage for the last fall fruits, then corner Alex, like she's the new toy they're obsessed with and plan to play with until it breaks. Buddy drags her into the bedroom first, forces her down, takes his pleasure quickly, and leaves as silently as he came. Dwight and Luke wander in when he's done and take leisurely turns with her, goading each other on, mocking her cries of pain, and punishing her every attempt to fend them off.

She's covered in scratches and bruises from head to toe, and her left wrist is badly sprained, if not broken. Her eyes are red and swollen from crying so much and she can't remember the last time she was so terrified. She huddles in on herself, cowers in her corner when the brothers are near, shies away from Vanessa's confused pity, keeps her eyes averted and her mouth shut. Sally comes to her every day when the brothers leave, and while Alex allows the dark-haired woman to tend to her wounds and hold her while she cries hysterically, she doesn't speak to Sally, remains curled in on herself.

She knows the brothers think they've almost broken her will. She's sure Vanessa thinks so too. She doesn't know what Sally thinks. But that's not it at all. She's struggling to cope with the pain and the fear, struggling to move past it so she can find her inner strength.

And she's wrestling with a question that only she can answer—at what price survival?

****** 

A week later, Alex lies passive underneath Buddy, not struggling as he takes her. When he leaves and Dwight and Luke pounce on her, she doesn't fight them.

The next day, the pattern repeats—Alex is like a rag doll, letting them do what they want to her without resisting. It doesn't make their touch any less rough, but at least they're not beating her into submission in the process.

The end of the next afternoon finds Dwight on the bed with her, kneeling between her legs, his fingers digging into her hips, holding her up off the bed and pulling her firmly against his body. He's buried deep inside her, softening from his release. Luke pulls on his clothes, walks over to the bed and reaches out to squeeze her breast. She freezes at the contact, but doesn't flinch away, and he laughs at her, toying with her for a minute before removing his hand. His laughter echoes as he walks out of the room.

She bites her lip at the sharp burst of pain when Dwight abruptly pulls out of her and drops her hips. He slides off the bed, reaching for his discarded pants. When he's dressed, he stands over her, his eyes roaming possessively over her naked body. Shame pulses through her at his lewd scrutiny, but she makes no move to close her legs or cover herself. It would be pointless—he's already seen everything and it would only make him needlessly angry.

He smirks at her. "Told ya you'd learn to like this. Knew you'd eventually relax and enjoy it."

She takes a deep breath. She knows now what she's willing to do to survive, what choices she's able to live with, but she still has her line in the sand. She says quietly, "Lack of resistance doesn't equal consent."

He stares uncomprehending at her for a moment, and she holds her breath, not sure which way this is going to go. Anger burns in his eyes and he reaches down, grabs her hair in one meaty hand, and hauls her off the bed in one quick move. He holds her upright in front of him, staring at her, eyes blazing. "What did I tell you about that smart mouth and bad attitude? Stupid, stubborn bitch."

She doesn't respond, but doesn't look away either, meeting his stare with her own, holding fast to the line she's drawn for herself. She winces as his grip in her hair tightens. After a moment, his anger fades and his mouth twists into its usual contemptuous sneer. He laughs. "Doesn't matter if you consent or not. You belong to us—we can do whatever we want with you. You'd do well to remember that."

He snorts dismissively, then abruptly lets go of her hair and shoves her violently. She crashes hard into the wall and slides in a heap to the floor. Her last thought before darkness claims her is that if her wrist wasn't broken before, it is now.

****** 

Soon after that, the brothers lose interest in her. She's not sure if it's because the lack of a struggle bores them or if they're satisfied that they've destroyed her spirit or if it's just that she's no longer a novelty. She doesn't actually care why. She's just relieved at the respite.

She knows they'll still take her every so often when the mood strikes, as they take Sally and Vanessa. But without the terror of a daily gang-rape hanging over her head, that prospect seems bearable.

The fact that she can even think that way strikes her as wrong. But it's a fact of her current life.

She doesn't regret her decision to submit, doesn't regret the choices she made to survive. Not as long as there's even the slightest chance that either her friends will find her or she'll find a way out.

Until that day comes, she'll deal with the cards she's been dealt and focus on not losing hope.

****** 

Her days are long, filled with work. The brothers decide to keep Vanessa in the house doing mending and cooking, sending Alex and Sally to do the hard labor outside. Fetching water, washing clothes in the outdoor tub, hanging the laundry to dry, harvesting the last vegetables from the garden, tearing down and mulching the garden beds for the winter, gathering and hauling firewood.

Her wrist has healed, but not properly; it's misshapen and aches all the time, particularly in the chill of the late fall air. She walks with a pronounced limp—Dwight was in a foul mood one day when he dragged her into the bedroom and his brutality did some kind of damage, though she doesn't know exactly what, or whether it's permanent. It doesn't matter; there's nothing she can do about it here, now.

She's quiet, withdrawn. The only person she's remotely comfortable with is Sally, and they spend most of their time together working in silence. When the brothers are around, she speaks only when spoken to. It's the only way she can deal with the pain and fear that haunt her every waking moment. On the rare occasions when the women are alone together in the house during the day, Vanessa is chatty and she tries her hardest to come out of her shell for the young woman's sake. Vanessa still hasn't lost her spark, and Alex will do her damnedest to make sure that never happens.

She and Sally take turns drawing Dwight's attention when his temper flares for no apparent reason, taking his beatings on their shoulders to spare Vanessa from them. Protecting her in what little ways they can is something that unites them, though they've never once talked about it. She knows the young woman hasn't figured out what they're doing yet. She's pretty sure Dwight and Luke haven't either, the way they mutter about stupid women who never learn. Only Buddy seems to get it, and he doesn't say anything.

She thinks the silent brother actually cares about Vanessa, in what limited way he's capable of. Even though it doesn't excuse anything he's done, the way he's treated them, it gives her a slight degree of sympathy for him. Maybe it's just Stockholm Syndrome, since he's been marginally less abusive towards her than the others have. She doesn't think so. It's knowledge that does her no good; it doesn't help her daily struggles in any way. But in some weird way she can't define, it helps her keep hope alive.

She's mostly focused on the very immediate—put one foot in front of the other, do the task at hand, get through one day at a time. She knows that's what Dwight wants—to leave her so exhausted and worn-down that she breaks, that she gives up completely and accepts this life as her fate.

But though the flame of hope inside her is dim right now, it hasn't gone out entirely. Underneath the trauma and the terror, the exhaustion and the pain, she still remembers that there's another world out there, another life filled with people who love her and care about her. She hasn't given up on getting that back some day.

She just can't let herself dwell on it. It's too painful when she's struggling emotionally with what the brothers have done to her. It's too painful to think of the life she's lost while she's trapped in this one with no escape in sight.

****** 

Alex wakes immediately when she hears the creak of the bedroom door, and tenses at the sight of Buddy, framed in the doorway by the light from the coals in the fireplace. Fear and doubt rise in her. She knows Dwight and Luke are already asleep; they go to bed soon after dinner and sleep like the dead with the amount of dope they smoke. Buddy's never come in like this before; she can't imagine a good reason why he would now.

Her spot is at the foot of the bed and she curls into a tighter ball under her blanket as he makes his way into the room. But he walks past her, going over to the left side of the bed where Vanessa sleeps, putting his hand on the young woman's shoulder, shaking her awake. Her curiosity is suddenly stronger than her fear, and she rolls over, needing to see what's going on. She sees Sally sit up abruptly, also turning to watch the man, and she's relieved to know she's not alone in her concern.

Buddy's voice, so seldom heard, startles her. "It's cold in here, Vanessa. My room's a lot warmer and I have more blankets. You should sleep in my bed with me so you don't freeze."

The moon is full, light streaming through the window, so Alex can see the mix of uncertainty and want in Vanessa's eyes. Their room is frigid, blasted by the wind as it is, and Vanessa's been sick once already this winter. The offer of a warm place to sleep is probably a dream come true. There's no doubt in Alex's mind that Buddy means what he says literally, not figuratively, and as she glances at Sally, she can tell the other woman is thinking the same thing. Vanessa looks at each of them in turn, and they both nod at her, letting her know it's okay. She smiles at them, then turns the smile on Buddy and lets him help her up and lead her out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

When they're gone, Sally fixes Alex with an intent stare. Alex blinks hard, not at all sure what's going on. The woman's voice is soft, sad. "He's right; we could freeze. End of last winter, Dwight got mad about something and took our extra blankets. Tried to get Nessa to share blankets and sleep next to me, but..."

Though Sally stops there, Alex can fill in the blanks herself. Early on, she'd noticed that Vanessa balked at any contact with the two of them that could possibly be construed as intimate. At first, she'd assumed it was the young woman's way of taking what little control of her body she could. But it hadn't taken long for Vanessa to confess that she keeps her distance because Sally likes women instead of men.

She knows the young woman cares about Sally. And Vanessa has no qualms about letting the dark-haired woman protect her, advise her, console her, even patch her up when she's injured and doctor her when she's sick. But none of that is enough to erase the young woman's religiously ingrained fear—her fear that close contact with the other woman will either turn her gay or cause Sally to lose control and take advantage of her.

Alex hadn't known what to say to any of that when she heard it. She still doesn't, for that matter.

Understanding what the intensity of Sally's stare is about, Alex says softly, "That doesn't bother me. But I am afraid that if I'm not entirely awake, I'll mistake you for one of them..."

She can't finish the thought. Sally nods and says gently, "I get it. Just 'cause we're not fighting back doesn't mean it's not still rape and doesn't make their touch any easier to bear."

Alex feels sudden tears in her eyes at the words and is surprised by them. The other woman seems to have so thoroughly accepted her fate that it hasn't occurred to her that Sally might still be as traumatized by the brothers' treatment as she herself is.

"I'm sorry," she says, reaching out a hand to touch Sally's leg. "You're so adept at taking care of me, of us, that I forget sometimes that you're going through the same thing we are."

Sally shrugs and looks down. The non-verbal deflection doesn't surprise Alex, though it makes her sad. She whispers, "Somehow, some way, we will get out of here. I know you've stopped believing in that, but I haven't. I'll believe in it for both of us."

She's grateful when Sally looks up at that and nods, though the dark-haired woman doesn't say anything else.

A gust of wind rattles the window and Alex shivers in the chill of the room. She makes her decision quickly, sitting up, blanket in hand, and scooting up the bed until she's sitting next to Sally. She sees the surprise in dark eyes. Quietly, she says, "I'd rather risk having a flashback than both of us coming down with pneumonia."

Sally closes her eyes for a moment, but not before Alex reads the relief in them, and she's once again near tears at the reminder of just how many ways this woman has been hurt.

The moment passes quickly, though, and Sally takes charge, telling Alex to lie down and get comfortable. She lies on her left side, the position she sleeps in the most because it bothers her wrist the least. She feels her blanket being draped over her, then Sally's blanket being added on top of that. Already, she's warmer than she has been in days. Sally reaches over her, grabs Vanessa's discarded blanket and drapes it over the top of the others.

Sally slips under the nest of blankets behind her, close, but not quite touching, clearly trying to give her space. Alex is grateful for that.

She lies there, soaking up the feeling of not being chilled to the bone for the first time in weeks. She hears Sally's soft, steady breathing and it soothes her. She thinks of the woman's gentle hands, the way they've tended her hurts and eased her pain. Her earlier worry vanishes like smoke—there is no way even in sleep that she'll mistake the familiar, tender touch of her friend for the rough hands of her tormentors.

She scoots back slightly, until she bumps into Sally, and hears the woman's concerned, "Alex?"

Sally's rare use of her name makes her sad again. But she pushes the emotion aside and says simply, "I'm not worried about flashbacks any more. I know I'll sleep better if you're holding me. I think you will too."

For a long moment, nothing happens. Then she feels movement as Sally turns and spoons up behind her, her body snuggled tight against Alex's back, one arm draping protectively across the curve of her hip, hand resting lightly on her stomach.

Alex sighs softly. For the first time in far too long she feels safe and supported, the way she always feels safe and supported with Walker. She hears Sally echo her sigh, feels the way the other woman seems to relax against her. She knows suddenly that as much as she needed this type of caring, reassuring touch without knowing it, Sally needed it more.

She's grateful for the chance to do something—no matter how small—for the woman who's done so much for her.

The sense of being cocooned in the blankets lulls her and the comfort of being held by someone she trusts completely soothes her. It's not long before she drifts into the first restful sleep she's had since being kidnapped.

****** 

The twelfth night she falls asleep in Sally's arms, she dreams of Walker. He's standing on a rock on the top of a hill, staring at the mountain beyond. He holds his hands up towards the sun as if in prayer, closes his eyes. "Hold on, Alex," he says. "We're searching for you. Just hang in there until we find you."

When she wakes, it's with a renewed sense of hope. She's never been one to place too much stock in dreams, despite having a few that were prescient. But she knows Walker, knows his intuition and his traditions, knows that if he were to come to her in spirit, it would be in a dream.

As she and Sally climb out of bed and slip out of their nightshirts and into their dresses, she wants to share the dream with the other woman. But she holds her tongue. She knows her friend will see it as wishful thinking, not as a sign. More than that, she doesn't want to make any promises she can't keep. While she's positive her friends are out searching for her, she also knows it still could take a long time before they find her. The last thing she wants is to finally give Sally a sense of hope, only to watch it crumble to dust.

As she goes about her day and its never-ending chores, she feels more like herself than she has in months. It's ironic, she knows, since she's aware of just how unlike her former self she is right now. She's still quiet and withdrawn. She's still skittish at the mere sight of the brothers, abused and scared as she is. On the surface, she's nothing like the strong, opinionated, confident, optimistic woman her friends know. But that woman is still there, buried underneath the trauma and pain. She will never be quite the same as she was before, but she hasn't lost herself entirely. Not yet.

She thinks of Sally. Her friend is highly traumatized, her pain profound. And yet she is still all gentle hands and protective fluttering. Alex will be as strong as she is. She won't let the brothers steal her new-found hope from her. She won't let the fear and the horror destroy her compassion.

That determination won't make her suffering in the meantime any easier to bear. She knows this. But it will give her the strength to carry on in spite of it.

****** 

Alex carefully chips a V into the bark of a tree with a piece of flint. For several days now, as she and Sally have been out foraging for whatever bits of food they can find in the dead of winter, she's been leaving little signs like this. She knows the odds are low that a random search party will see them, but she knows Walker. If he's anywhere near where she's left a clue, his intuition will kick in and he'll be drawn to it.

It's a long shot that her efforts will actually help anyone find them. But it feels good to finally be doing something proactive.

She turns, finds Sally watching her with troubled eyes, and wonders at it. After one initial, worried protest, Sally hasn't said a word to her about what she's doing; the dark-haired woman has even pointed out a couple of good places to leave clues. She's not sure what the problem is, stares questioningly at her friend.

By way of an answer, Sally points up. Alex flinches slightly to see that the sun is lower in the sky than she'd expected. They still have a few hours of daylight left, to be sure, but the brothers are probably back from checking their rabbit snares by now, and the last thing she wants is for Dwight and Luke to come looking for them. Even though they haven't been given a time limit for their task, the brothers don't need an excuse to punish them.

She drops the flint, kicks a layer of snow over it, and picks up her basket. It's heavy—laden with kindling, an assortment of walnuts and chestnuts, and a handful of roots and tubers Sally was able to find despite the fresh snowfall. She balances the load against her hip, waits until Sally has done the same with her basket, then leads the way as they retrace their earlier steps. She limps carefully over the uneven, slippery ground, despite the haste she knows they're both feeling. She can't move quickly under the best of circumstances, and there's no point in either of them risking a sprained ankle.

When they walk into the clearing surrounding the cabin an hour later, Alex thinks they've made it back before the brothers. A quick glance at Sally tells her the other woman's thinking the same thing. Even with Buddy rarely saying a word, the brothers are not quiet—walking like elephants, banging cupboard doors, making noise with everything they do and everything they touch. As they near the cabin, all Alex can hear is silence.

But as she opens the door, four heads turn to look at her and Sally. The brothers and Vanessa are all sitting at the table. Vanessa looks confused and frightened. Dwight looks angry. Luke is smirking. Buddy's expression is inscrutable as usual. Alex feels her heart beat faster.

Not sure what's going on or what else to do, she edges in to the room, Sally close enough on her heels that she can feel the sudden tension in her friend's body. No one says a word for a long minute.

"Put the baskets down and come here," Dwight commands.

Alex starts to tremble, but obeys. Sally does the same, still right on her heels. Dwight holds something up. "What's this?"

Alex has the sudden, hysterical thought that to an outsider, this scene would look completely ridiculous. Because what Dwight is holding up is a simple blue ribbon. Innocuous. Non-threatening. Nothing that should incur any kind of wrath or leave both her and Sally shaking in their proverbial boots.

Her mouth is dry and she can't form words. Dwight's growl is low, more menacing than his loudest yell. "I asked you a question."

Alex feels Sally's hand on her back, and knows what her friend is about to do. She speaks quickly before Sally can say a word. "It's my ribbon. From my old dress. The one that was ruined when you whipped me."

She can hear the quaver in her own voice, and hears Sally's nearly inaudible "no" behind her. But she stands firm, not willing to let her friend take the blame for this. Not when it's her doing.

"And why did I find it tied to the trunk of a sapling?"

This time, Alex doesn't answer. There's no lie she can give that will satisfy him, and she's not going to give him the truth. Not when it could implicate Sally as well. It's the only thing she can do for her friend. But she knows he already knows the answer. His laugh confirms it. He drawls, "Did you really think one little ribbon would catch the attention of a search party? Are you really that stupid?"

She hangs her head, remains silent. She hopes he'll just give her the usual beating for her disobedience and call it a day. She knows it's not likely to be that simple. When he grabs her chin and forces her head up, she knows she's in trouble.

His mouth twists into a sneer. "I think I've been too soft on you. Time to remind you just what I'm capable of."

For a single, heart-stopping, terrifying minute, she thinks he plans to have the brothers gang-rape her again, then and there. She starts to tremble uncontrollably. She's unaccountably relieved when he calls over his shoulder, "Luke, bring my whip. Buddy, bring Sally out with you. She needs to watch this—it'll be a lesson for her too. Vanessa, go to Buddy's room and stay there."

As he stands abruptly and grabs her arm, Alex struggles against him. But it's futile—he's too strong and her energy has been sapped by weeks of cold weather, nonstop work, and inadequate food. Still, she doesn't go down without a fight, and he's breathing hard by the time he muscles her out to the tree and gets her wrists secured in the straps. She shivers as he rips open the back of her dress, then shudders as he rips open its sleeves and skirt until the ruined dress falls in a pile of rags in the snow beside her and she's standing in nothing but her underwear.

This time, there's no buildup, no snapping the whip against the ground to gradually increase her fear. He already knows she's scared of him. This is solely about punishing her—hurting her—and she screams as he lays into her. She doesn't bother trying to be strong this time—there's no point to it.

He stops after the tenth stroke, laughing at her as she pants for breath. She sags against the tree trunk, whimpering at the agony in her back. She knows he's not done yet, that he's just getting started. He gets off on this.

She closes her eyes, breathes through the pain, tries to tune out the grating sound of his laughter. Bad as this is, as it will get, it's still far, far better than the alternative. She'll be strong. She'll endure it. She has to.

She hears the whip snap again, and a new line of agony across her back tears a ragged cry from her throat. She tries to steel herself for the next stroke. But before he can hit her again, there's a primal scream, a ferocious "Leave her alone!" echoing through the air. Alex's eyes snap open in sudden shock. She knows that voice.

It's Walker.

Tied to the tree like she is, her back on fire, she can't move, can't turn to see what's happening. But what she can't see, she can hear. Thuds, grunts, snaps, cracks, groans. There's a fight going on in earnest. She doesn't know how many people are with Walker, how the fight's going, anything at all. All she can do is stand there in her bonds, heart in her throat, and pray that Walker will win and this nightmare will finally end.

As abruptly as it started, the fight is over. There's a sudden, profound silence, where even the wind stops moving in the trees. And then Walker is beside her, knife in hand, reaching up to cut the straps binding her. He releases her and she lowers her arms slowly, then turns her head to look at him, almost not believing he's here. She moves sluggishly, turning sideways towards him, just staring at him. He moves closer, reaches for her, his hands carefully placed on her upper arms, and she bows her head and bursts into tears, overwhelmed by the sudden, miraculous rescue.

One of his hands moves slightly as if he plans to lift her chin up; one finger just barely skims her chest, but she tenses instantly, her head snapping up, breath coming too quickly. He senses her dismay immediately and pulls his hands back, staring intently at her. Her tears have stopped, but she's trembling again, not from cold this time, but from fear, from sense memory. Luke's hands, Dwight's hands, roaming over her.

She opens her mouth to try and explain, but no words come out. She closes her mouth again and just stares at him. She wouldn't even know where to start.

His eyes clinically move over her bare body as she stands stiff and still in front of him. Though the only bruises she sports are from Dwight's last few beatings, she knows the fact that she's standing there nearly naked in front of God and everyone, not fidgeting in embarrassment or trying to cover herself, will tell him some of what she can't say.

She sees the exact instant the penny drops and he understands the basics of what's been done to her. His eyes brim with rare tears and his voice is a naked whisper. "Oh God, Alex. I'm so, so sorry."

She can barely speak around the sudden lump in her throat. "I know. But it's not your fault. You're here now. You saved me...us."

He starts to reach out again, to comfort her, but she flinches at the sudden motion and he stops. She feels bad—guilty—for not letting him get too close, but before she can apologize, he says gently, "It's okay. I understand."

And then, she feels a familiar presence beside her and relaxes minutely. Sally slips a sheet around her shoulders and she grabs the ends of it in both fists, pulling it around her, hissing as the fabric comes in contact with the shredded skin of her back. She's still cold, but feels better for not being exposed. Sally's hand is under her elbow, steadying her, and she can finally look past Walker and take in the entire scene. Trent and Jimmy are there, tying up the brothers, who are all out cold.

She can sense Sally's nervousness about the newcomers, even though it's obvious that they're friends. But the dark-haired woman doesn't say anything except "We should make sure Nessa's okay, treat your wounds."

Alex sees the slight lift of Walker's eyebrow and explains, "Walker, this is Sally. She and Vanessa were already captives here when I arrived."

He nods, clearly understanding what's she's not saying—namely that they're as likely to be spooked right now as she is. His voice is quiet. "We'll finish up here, make sure these guys aren't going anywhere. Once you're all okay, we'll figure out what comes next."

She nods in return, starts to let Sally guide her towards the cabin. Then, moved by an impulse she doesn't quite understand, she stops and jerks her chin towards Buddy. "Keep him separated from the other two—now, and when you take him to jail. He deserves better than they'll get..."

She trails to a halt, not quite sure how to explain. Sally fills in the blank. "He's bad, but not as bad as the others."

In typical Sally fashion, that's all she says. But it's the heart of the matter and it's enough. Walker studies both of them for a moment, then nods. His voice is gentle. "Go on. Take care of yourselves and your other friend."

Alex wants to smile at him, but it's been too long since she last smiled and she's almost forgotten how. Pain is pulsing through her back and the tears are threatening again and all she can do is give him a brief nod. She follows Sally's lead, heads into the cabin. There will be time for a reunion later. Right now, it's enough to know that they're safe and the brothers will never hurt them again.

****** 

By the time she and Sally emerge from their bedroom, Alex's tears dried and wounds salved, night has fallen. Walker and Jimmy are sitting at the table, a map and other papers spread out in front of them. Vanessa is sitting next to Trent, their chairs a few feet away from the table, his arm around her back and her head resting against his shoulder, talking a mile a minute about how grateful she is and how happy she'll be to see her family.

Alex glances at Sally, sees the dark-haired woman's not-quite-smile, turns her attention back to the young woman. Clearly, Sally is not at all surprised to see Vanessa so easily warming up to virtual strangers. Alex supposes it makes sense, particularly since said strangers have saved them all from the brothers.

But since she's still incredibly gun-shy around the men in light of what the brothers did to her—even though she knows and loves them—it surprises her that Vanessa isn't.

She feels the brush of a hand against hers, turns her attention back to Sally. Sally's voice is low. "This is how we know our sacrifices were worth it. She can still trust. She's not scared. She'll be okay."

Though the words are meant for her ears alone, a quick glance at Walker's face tells her he heard them as well, his senses obviously as uncanny as ever. She's grateful he knows better than to ask. They'll talk about it in time, but not yet. It's too soon.

Alex limps painfully across the room, moving even more slowly than normal, pulling her stool up to the table across from Walker and Jimmy. The dress she's wearing is unbuttoned in back and she shivers slightly in the chill of the room. Without a word, Sally goes to the woodpile, adds two logs to the fire in the stove, comes over and sits in the empty chair next to Alex.

Vanessa stops chattering and sits upright, turning to look at them both. Her smile lights up her whole face and she says, "Isn't it great? It's finally over. We can all go home and get back to our lives."

Alex doesn't quite know how to respond to that. Attuned to Sally as she's become in recent weeks, she can feel the tension radiating from her friend. It's not that either one of them begrudges Vanessa her excitement. It's just that for the two of them, things aren't quite that simple.

After a moment, she manages to say, "It's a relief that it's over and I'm happy that we all survived."

Vanessa smiles at her again, clearly taking her words at more than face value, before leaning back against Trent's shoulder. Trent studies Alex for a long minute as she struggles not to squirm under his gaze, then turns his attention to Walker and Jimmy. The men hold a silent conversation with their eyes, one that she doesn't even try to follow, numbed as her brain is from exhaustion and pain and the surreal rescue.

After a moment, Trent stands, and she watches as he holds out his hand to Vanessa, helping her up. He suggests, "Why don't we go fetch some water so that we can all wash up after we eat something?" The young woman nods enthusiastically and he drapes Jimmy's coat around her shoulders as he steers her out the door.

When they're gone, Alex slumps slightly on her stool. She glances at Sally, sees her own weariness and hurt and uncertainty mirrored in dark eyes.

Jimmy clears his throat, speaks quietly. "We called the sheriff's office on a satellite phone, let them know we've neutralized the Trammels and found three women they were holding captive. We gave them the coordinates of the cabin and they'll be sending a helicopter to retrieve us in the morning."

Walker adds quickly, "If you don't want to spend the night in here, I'll rig up a shelter for you outside and keep a fire going so you'll be warm enough."

She shares a look with Sally, speaks for both of them. "We'll be okay in our room for one more night."

She glances at Walker, suddenly worried about how he's taking this—her being unable to seek comfort in the arms of the man she loves, turning instead to her fellow captive. But there's nothing but compassion and understanding in his eyes. As if he's reading her mind—and for all she knows he is—he says softly, "I'm just glad the two of you have each other to lean on after what you've been through."

His words ease a worry she hadn't known she'd been carrying. Of course he understands why she's shying away from men right now, even him. Of course he understands why she's leaning on the person she's bonded with during her ordeal. It doesn't matter that he doesn't know the specifics of what she's endured in these past months; he clearly understands that it was traumatic and life-altering.

She blows out a quick breath. "So what happens tomorrow?"

It's a silly question on the one hand. But on the other, she really doesn't know. It's Jimmy who answers, his voice soothing. "We take you to the hospital; get you checked out and let them take care of you. We send a team of deputies to pick up the Trammels and haul them off to jail. And we call Carlos and tell him you're safe."

"Is...is he okay?"

She feels Sally's hand slip into her hand, knows her voice sounds small and scared. She hasn't yet asked about what happened in the rock slide.

Walker replies instantly. "He will be. His ankle was smashed by a boulder and he had to have surgery. He'll make a full recovery, but he's stuck in a wheelchair until he's a little farther along in his recovery. Trivette tried to push him out of the way after Carlos triggered the trap, but there were too many rocks."

Her voice is still small. "And you guys?"

Walker smiles reassuringly at her. "I sprained my knee pretty badly and ended up on crutches for a few weeks, but I got off lucky. Trent gave himself a nice little concussion—was on bed rest until he recovered. Trivette thought it would be fun to puncture his lung and get to lie around in a hospital bed for a while. I think he just wanted to have pretty nurses waiting on him hand and foot."

Jimmy butts in. "Yeah, well at least the nurses like me because I'm a cooperative patient, unlike some people I know."

Though the list of injuries is serious, Alex manages a tiny hint of a smile at their banter. Her friends all survived the trap. They're all going to be okay. None of them died because of her.

She doesn't realize she's spoken the last words out loud until she sees the twin looks of dismay on Walker and Jimmy's faces. Both men speak at once.

"Alex, you're not to blame for what happened."

One part of her knows they're right. The other part—the scared, traumatized part that's spent months being punished for nothing more than existing—knows only that if she hadn't been kidnapped, they wouldn't have been following her, and if they hadn't been following her, they wouldn't have been caught in the trap.

She sees the look they share, knows they're picking up on her disbelief. Before either one can say anything, Sally speaks.

"The brothers are to blame. No one else."

It's a typical Sally statement. Short, sweet, and to the point. Alex turns her head, sees the certainty blazing in dark eyes. She's spent so long with Dwight's taunting voice in her head that she can't quite process the thought. She stares at her friend for a long moment, lost in the dark gaze, until Sally continues softly, "They laid the trap, you didn't. Just like they beat us, abused us, raped us. Their actions. Their choices. Not ours. Unless you blame yourself for what they did to you..."

Alex gives a single, emphatic shake of the head. No, what the brothers did to her, what they put her through, none of that is her fault. She knows that in her bones. Sally's right. What happened to her friends on that trail, it's not her fault. It never was. The sudden lifting of that weight off her shoulders makes her light-headed.

She's suddenly aware that Walker and Jimmy are still within earshot, that they certainly heard what Sally said. Even though she knows they've already guessed all of that, having the words spoken aloud makes it real in a new way. Her cheeks are hot with humiliation as she sneaks a glance at the men to gauge their reactions. They're both staring at the far wall, clearly trying to give her and Sally the dignity of as much space as possible in the tiny room. She can see the sorrow and anger in their eyes, knows the sorrow is for their suffering, realizes the anger is at the brothers, not at her, and it reassures her.

The sudden opening of the door as Trent and Vanessa return puts an end to the awkward conversation. On auto-pilot, she and Sally both get to their feet, ready to go make dinner. Walker motions them to sit back down, says softly, "We've got this."

****** 

Dinner is quiet. Even Vanessa has picked up on the subdued mood and keeps her excitement to herself. After they eat, Trent washes the dishes, Walker and Jimmy build up the fire. They sit at the table, make bits of conversation, but no one seems inclined to talk much. There's both too much to say and nothing to say.

They all turn in early. Trent and Jimmy take the room Dwight and Luke shared. Vanessa heads to her usual spot in Buddy's bed. Walker makes a nest out of a pile of blankets in the middle of the common room, planning to sleep there. Alex knows it's so that if a threat arises during the night—a bear, a nightmare, one of the brothers getting loose—he'll be able to respond quickly and protect everyone.

She's missed his protective presence. She's glad he's here now. She tells him that.

She and Sally head to their room. Alex's back is starting to hurt badly again. Sally directs her to lie down on her stomach, rubs more salve into the wounds. It burns, but Alex clenches her fists and doesn't make a sound.

It takes her a minute to decide how she's going to sleep. The obvious idea—to sleep on her stomach—isn't appealing because the weight of the blankets against her shredded back will undoubtedly hurt. At long last, she moves carefully, lies on her left side. Her back is still throbbing, but at least she doesn't have to worry about waking up with fabric stuck to the wounds.

Sally slides in in front of her, but doesn't snuggle back against her. They've slept entwined long enough now that Alex misses the contact, even if she's usually the one being spooned. "C'mere," she whispers, and she's relieved when Sally scoots back, snuggling up close. Her back protests as she moves, as does her wrist, but she ignores the pain and drapes her arm over her friend's side in a loose hold.

The woman's familiar presences grounds her and despite her pain, she manages to fall asleep.

****** 

Their arrival at the hospital the next morning is somewhat chaotic. Despite Jimmy's warning that Alex and Sally not be separated, the ER doctor tries to do just that. Sally has a panic attack when the man takes her arm and starts to lead her over to a gurney. Alex tries to get out of her wheelchair and get to her friend, but doubles over in pain as the sudden motion causes some of the wounds on her back to start bleeding.

Walker steps in then. He none-too-gently shoves the doctor away and tells him to go look after Vanessa, then directs Trent to stay with the young woman. He puts a light hand on Sally's shoulder and steers her over to the seat next to Alex's wheelchair, gently helping her sit down. Alex reaches out, her hand finding Sally's, and they hold on for dear life, grounding each other. Walker watches them for a moment, then leaves Jimmy to hover protectively over them while he tells the desk nurse just what needs to happen. The nurse is a practical sort, less interested in the letter of the law than in getting her patients treated.

Alex and Sally are put in the same room, examined in each others' presence by a female doctor and the desk nurse. Walker and Jimmy stand guard in the hallway to make sure no one else disturbs them.

****** 

Vanessa comes to visit them that evening. She's been examined and released; the brothers hadn't laid a rough hand on her in over three months, and her anemia and malnutrition can be treated at home. She's already got follow-up appointments scheduled with her family's doctor in Salt Lake.

Her family—her parents and all her brothers and sisters—arrived at the hospital a few hours ago to greet her and take her back home. Her eyes are glowing and she can't stop smiling.

Alex is glad to see Vanessa like that, glad to know that she's got the love and support of her family, that she's going to be okay.

****** 

Sally's dad and sister arrive the next day. Alex would give them privacy if she could, but between her mangled back and the torn muscles in her groin, she's confined to bed. And Sally is drained and exhausted and doesn't want to leave the security of their room.

It's a bittersweet reunion. Sally's happy to see them, but many things have changed while she was held captive—her mom died, they sold the family home and moved to California, her sister's divorced and her dad's dating his high-school sweetheart—and it's a lot to take in at once.

Alex lies on her side with her eyes closed, playing possum, while the three of them talk quietly. Sally's family catches her up on various things that have happened in the four years since her kidnapping; Sally tells the the bare bones story of what she's been through.

Alex is amused to discover that Sally wasn't just taciturn and quiet solely because of the captivity. The woman comes by it honestly. Sarah, her sister, can carry on a normal enough conversation. But getting her dad to say more than three words in a row is like pulling teeth.

Still, at least they're talking, starting to get comfortable with each other again. It's awkward—Alex can tell that even with her eyes closed. But it makes sense that it would be.

Things aren't the same as they were for any of them. Sally's lived a nightmare; her father and sister have mourned various losses. At least the three of them recognize that life has changed and realize that in many ways, they have to start over.

****** 

Alex is still in the hospital when Sally is released a week later, though she's no longer confined to bed. Sally will be leaving soon, going to Santa Rosa to stay with Sarah for a while.

The two of them sit side by side on Alex's bed, hands touching but not saying anything. The silence is familiar, comfortable. There may come a time when they sit down and talk to each other about what happened. That time may not come. They don't necessarily need it. Not with each other. Sally witnessed most of what Alex went through. Alex can guess, based on her own experiences, some of what happened to her friend.

At long last, Sally speaks. "Promise me you'll stay in touch."

Alex nods. "I will."

She reaches with her good hand for a bag on the table next to her bed, hisses as the movement pulls at one of the fresh scabs on her back. Sally sets a hand on her knee and she stops moving, lets her friend reach over and pick up the bag and hand it to her. Alex reaches inside, pulls out a bracelet, hands it to Sally. "I got this for you."

It's not entirely true—while she's the one who picked it out while leafing through the catalog of a nearby jewelry store, Walker is the one who paid for it and went to pick it up. But it's the same difference.

Sally holds it up, looking it over. The bracelet is simple—a sterling silver cuff adorned with a wreath of oak leaves. Alex holds her breath, not sure how her friend will like it. They've never talked about meaningful symbols or anything like that.

Sally stares at it for a moment, then slips it on her wrist. For the first time, Alex sees an actual smile on her friend's face. The sight brings her to grateful tears and Sally reaches over, touching her cheek to wipe them away. The dark-haired woman's voice is soft, but full of wonder. "It's perfect. Thank you."

Then, Sally digs into her pocket, fishes out something. Her voice is light. "Apparently, you and I have some kind of psychic thing going on."

Alex gasps in surprise as the woman hands her a pendant. It's a gold-plated heart on a gold chain, inscribed with the word "Hope." For a moment she can't speak, a lump in her throat and tears brimming in her eyes.

She smiles as Sally reaches up, fastens it around her neck. "It's beautiful." She turns to look at her friend. "Thank you. I couldn't have asked for a more meaningful gift."

There's warmth and caring in Sally's eyes, and Alex is certain her eyes reflect the same thing. She knows their paths will diverge from here; their lives are in different places. But they have a bond, forged in the fire of adversity, and she has no doubt that distance will not diminish it.

After a moment, there's a knock at the door and Alex isn't surprised when Sarah simply walks in without waiting for an invitation. She notes that the woman doesn't seem remotely perturbed by their proximity, merely stands a few feet away, hands tucked in pockets as she watches them. In keeping with the family tradition, Sarah asks simply, "Ready to go?"

Sally's reply is equally simple. "Ready as I'll ever be." The dark-haired woman slips off the bed.

"Take care of yourself," Alex says softly. "And call if you need anything."

Sally leans over, kisses her forehead. "I will. You too."

The minute the sisters are gone, Alex slumps over, her head in her hands, feeling unexpectedly sad and alone.

She doesn't hear the door open, doesn't hear any sound at all. But suddenly Walker is sitting on the bed next to her. She looks up, only slightly startled by his abrupt presence, and sees the concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks.

She starts to deflect, as she so often has in the past, then slowly shakes her head. His voice is almost impossibly gentle. "What can I do?"

"Just hold me."

Carefully, clearly mindful of her wounded back, he draws her into his arms and she leans on him. It's the first time she's been so close to him after her ordeal at the hands of the brothers, and she's tense at first. But his smell and touch are familiar and soothing, in the same way Sally's touch is, and she closes her eyes at that revelation, overwhelmed by relief that her trauma hasn't stolen away everything from her.

In his reassuring embrace, a fierce wave of grief rushes over her. She shudders with the force of it and he holds her closer.

For the first time since the day of their rescue, Alex lets herself cry.


	2. Chapter 2

When Alex gets back home, her life is initially ruled by appointments. Her doctor is hyper-vigilant, keeping close tabs on her still-healing back, running tests to make sure she hasn't been infected with HIV or STDs. He reminds her to rest and take it easy to let her torn muscles heal. He x-rays her wrist, then puts her under anesthesia and re-breaks the bones so he can set them properly before putting her in a cast to make sure they heal completely.

She goes to a therapist, one recommended by one of the doctors in Utah. It's not going as well as her doctor visits. After the initial appointment, he starts pushing her to talk in graphic detail about the rapes. She tells him she's not ready yet. He asks a lot of questions about specifics; she answers in generalities. She's never been to therapy before, doesn't know if it's normal to feel so reluctant to talk. Still, she keeps going faithfully, hoping that soon she'll be comfortable enough with him to be a good patient and do what she's supposed to.

Days stretch into weeks. Alex tries her best to reintegrate herself back into her life. She's not back at work—she's not healed enough physically for that, let alone emotionally. But she spends time helping Josie with paperwork at the HOPE Center. She drives Carlos to his physical therapy appointments. She talks to Sally and Vanessa once a week. She hangs out at C.D.'s with the guys and listens to their familiar banter. She and Jimmy sit by the pond in the park, feeding the ducks, enjoying the beauty of the outdoors. She and Walker spend time at the ranch—walking through the fields, playing chess, sitting on the swing watching the sunset. He doesn't push her to talk; the few things she shares are about how the ordeal made her feel.

These are all things that she knows she enjoys. They're things she knows should ground her, should mean something. They always have in the past. But she feels like she's just going through the motions.

Her therapist says it's because she's in denial about what she's been through, that she's not working through it. She's not sure she agrees. It's not like this is the first time she's suffered at the hands of a psycho and had to find a way to deal with it. It's just the one that's been the most life-changing

She's on the couch at the ranch one evening, just over a month after coming home, cuddling with Walker. Out of the blue, he asks if she feels like a stranger in her own life. She pulls out of his arms in surprise, stares at him. His eyes are warm, understanding, and she nods slowly and starts to cry. He holds her close and after her tears taper off, she asks how he knows. His voice is quiet as he reminds her that he knows what it's like to try to put the pieces back together after a life has been shattered.

She remembers that he lost his whole world when his parents died, then again when his fiancee was murdered. If anyone can understand how lost she feels, it's Walker.

She tells him about her sense that she's just going through the motions. She recounts what her therapist keeps saying. She tells him she wants to take her life back, but that it just doesn't seem to fit her right now. She's afraid she's too different after her time with the brothers, after all the things she endured at their hands, after everything she's endured at the hands of others over the years. She tells him about the nightmares that make her sleep restless. She's afraid she'll never be comfortable in her own skin again.

Walker shifts so she's looking at him, kisses her forehead gently. He says that her therapist is wrong, that he knows she's working through things in her own way, that she's coping a lot better than many people would be. He admits that when Ellen died, he felt the same way, like he was sleepwalking through life and would never find enjoyment or happiness in anything again.

Her eyes widen in surprise and she asks how he got past it. His smile is crooked. "I walked away from my life here. I went to the reservation, a place where I felt completely safe, but didn't have any reminders of anything in my normal daily life. I spent time alone, sometimes thinking, sometimes just staring up at the stars. I spent time with my friends and mentors there, sometimes talking, sometimes silent. I rode horses. I camped beside the lake. I buried myself in books. I buried myself in work, spending hours cutting firewood and fixing fences."

He leans forward, kisses her forehead again. "I didn't force myself to do anything specific, to be anyone specific. I just did whatever I felt in that moment. And one day, I woke up and realized I missed my life here, missed the things I used to do and the friends I had. That my life would never be exactly the same as it was, but that it would still be good. Maybe you need to do the same."

She blinks at him and he chuckles. "No, not go to the reservation. But go someplace completely different. A place that doesn't remind you of here, that doesn't remind you of the cabin. Someplace where you don't have to take care of anyone else. You spent more than four months waiting hand and foot on the Trammels, not to mention helping protect Vanessa. And since you've been back here, you've been fussing over Carlos and trying to make sure the rest of us are okay."

She doesn't know how to respond to that, settles for a shrug.

He continues softly, "You haven't taken any time to just take care of you. Go someplace where you can do that. Take the time to put the pieces back together."

"I miss Sally. I'm worried about her."

She blurts it out before she even realizes the thought is in her head. She shakes her head in bemusement; it's a complete non sequitur. Walker doesn't look the slightest bit surprised or confused. His response is simple.

"Have her go with you."

****** 

She calls Sally the next day, floats the idea. Her friend seizes on it so quickly that she realizes Walker knew all along that it was something they both needed—that it was something they needed to do together.

After she hangs up the phone, she calls her therapist, tells him she'll be going away for a while to get her head together. He tells her not to, says that her bad attitude towards therapy and stubborn refusal to talk will only make things worse for her in the long run. She freezes at the words, hears Dwight's voice in her head, saying similar things. A spark of anger flares. It's been a long time since it's been safe for her to be angry. She thinks it's a good sign. She tells the man politely, but firmly, that she won't be having any more sessions with him.

The relief she feels when the conversation ends tells her it was the right thing to do.

She calls her doctor, who says there's no medical reason for her to stay in town. Her back is still a little tender, but the wounds are well on their way to healing into scars. All her tests are clean, and the cast won't be coming off her wrist for at least a month anyhow. He wishes her well and she hangs up feeling encouraged.

When the phone rings an hour later, she picks it up, expecting Sally. To her surprise, it's Sarah. The other woman doesn't waste time on pleasantries.

_"When Dad and I moved here, we also bought a house in a small coastal town a couple hours away. It's got three bedrooms, wonderful views of the ocean, and is a fifteen minute walk from the beach. There are houses nearby, so it's not isolated, but it's a quiet town and people respect privacy."_

Alex doesn't even have to weigh the idea. "It sounds perfect."

****** 

By the time she heads out to Walker's ranch that evening, everything is arranged and Alex fills him in on the details as they eat dinner. Sarah took it on herself to buy Alex's plane ticket and she'll be flying out around noon tomorrow. Sarah will drive them to the house, drop them off, and then head back home. Alex feels almost like she got caught up in a whirlwind of efficiency—Sarah managed to get all the details worked out before she'd even started packing.

She thanks Walker for the suggestion, tells him she's been feeling less anxious just for the thought of being someplace different. His smile is gentle as he reminds her he knows that feeling, reminds her to take as much time as she needs.

They spend most of the rest of the evening in silence. She clears off the table while Walker cleans up the kitchen. When he starts washing dishes, something she can't easily help with one-handed, she heads outside to sit on the porch swing. Walker joins her and they sit quietly, watching as the stars and moon emerge on the canvas of the night sky. When it gets chilly, she gets up to head back home. Walker rises without a word and walks her to her car.

She turns to face him. "You know I love you, right?" she says. "Even though we haven't...I haven't been able to..."

She trails off, eyes darting to the side, unable to give the words voice. He leans forward, kisses her forehead gently. "I know," he says. "If you didn't love me, you wouldn't be here right now. You wouldn't trust me to hold you when you're scared, wouldn't let me be around you when you're feeling vulnerable."

There's a pause, then he continues softly, "Someday you'll be healed enough to want to be intimate again. Until then, I'm content with what we have. I'm just relieved that you're out of that nightmare, that you're safe and sound. That's all that's important to me right now."

She doesn't know what to say to that, can't seem to find any words at all. She settles for leaning against him, her arms going around his back as he pulls her into a hug. Finally, she pulls away, looks up into understanding eyes, says simply, "I'll call you tomorrow to let you know we made it there safely."

He smiles down at her. "That sounds good. But don't worry about me, Alex. Just take care of yourself."

****** 

The day is long. A flight delay and an accident blocking the highway put them hours behind schedule. The drive is mostly silent—Sarah concentrating on traffic, Alex and Sally both watching the scenery. They stop for dinner, then stop in a nearby town to pick up groceries. While there's a grocery store that's walking distance from the beach house, Sarah tells them it's small and carries just the essentials. Alex selects expensive chocolate and coffee—luxury items, comfort food at its finest. Sally seems overwhelmed by too many options, doesn't choose anything at all. Sarah steps in, picks out a smattering of salamis, fancy cheeses, and crackers. Sally's eyes light up when she sees them, though she doesn't say anything. Alex smiles.

By the time they finally arrive, it's after 10pm. They set their luggage down in the living room, get a quick tour of the house. While Sally and Sarah cart in the bags of groceries and unload them, Alex calls Walker. She knows he's asleep by then, but won't mind being woken. The conversation is brief—she tells him they made it safely, tells him to sleep well. He wishes her the same.

Sarah leaves to head home. Sally and Alex stand together in the living room, an awkward silence between them. Alex isn't sure what to say or do—while they got close during their captivity, they've never spent time together like this, where there wasn't a task or a need guiding their interaction. And their talks on the phone have been relatively brief and focused on day-to-day minutia. They've never had this kind of face-to-face freedom to say or do whatever they wish. She's not quite sure how to bridge the gap from their old reality to their new.

Before she can ponder it too long, she yawns. Moments later, Sally follows suit. They both grin knowingly at each other and the awkwardness is broken.

Alex says, "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to collapse. It's been a long day and I'm exhausted."

She sees the dark shadows under dark eyes, suspects Sally's sleep has been as troubled as her own. Her friend doesn't say anything, simply nods.

She leans over, picks up her suitcase in her good hand. Sally grabs her duffel bag and they walk through the hallway to the bedrooms. Without discussing it, they both head in to the master bedroom and set their bags down. Sally jerks her chin towards the en suite bathroom and Alex nods, grabbing her bag of toiletries and a nightshirt and heading in to get ready for bed.

When she's finished, Sally takes her turn. Alex slips under the covers, sighing contentedly at the heavy weight of them. There are times when she feels like she'll never be completely warm again after spending so many days and nights chilled to the bone. She turns on to her left side, carefully positioning her casted wrist so that she's comfortable, and closes her eyes. It's not long before Sally slips into bed beside her and she sighs again as her friend spoons up behind her and settles an arm around her waist.

She hadn't really expected that they'd slip back into this old pattern, but it feels right. It brings a sense of familiarity that she hadn't realized she was missing. It brings a sense of relief—being close to the one person in the world who truly understands what she's endured, who she knows doesn't judge her for the choices she made to survive.

Her last thought before sleep claims her is that she hopes her friend is as comforted by this closeness as she is.

****** 

When Alex wakes in the morning, her head is fuzzy, her limbs lethargic, her eyes heavy. She blinks at the grey light coming in the window, then at the clock, which tells her it's almost 11am. She can't remember the last time she slept so late.

She feels fidgeting behind her, rolls over onto her back, finds Sally pushing herself into a sitting position. Dark eyes dart around the room and she sees the vaguely uneasy expression on the other woman's face. The dark-haired woman looks as tired still as Alex feels, and she wonders briefly why her friend is just sitting there instead of going back to sleep. Several possible reasons, each of them troubling, parade through her foggy brain; one sticks, still troubling, but logical.

"No one's going to punish you for sleeping late. You're free of that now."

She sees the sudden mix of guilt and relief in dark eyes, knows she's on the right track. Dwight didn't like it if they weren't up, dressed, and well into their morning chores by the time he rolled out of bed.

Alex reaches out with her good hand, puts it on her friend's knee, or what looks like her knee through the layers of covers. Walker's words play through her mind; they're even more appropriate for Sally than they are for her.

She keeps her voice soft. "You've spent a lot of time taking care of everyone else—the brothers, Vanessa, me. It's time for you to take care of yourself, to focus on what you want, on what you need." She pauses there, then adds, "It's time for both of us to do that for ourselves."

Sally doesn't say anything for a long time, but Alex can see that she's processing the words, mulling them over. She waits. Finally, Sally admits, "I feel like I could go back to sleep."

It sounds like a non sequitur. Alex knows it's not. She rolls over on to her side, facing Sally, pats the space beside her in invitation. "Then sleep."

Sally hesitates only a moment before sliding back down under the covers and curling up against Alex.

****** 

It's almost mid-afternoon by the time they wake again. Alex still feels like a zombie, still feels like she could sleep for a week. But she gets out of bed anyhow. Her need for the bathroom is pressing and the idea of coffee sounds like heaven.

They move through the afternoon slowly, in a sleepy daze. They drink coffee, make a late lunch of eggs and bacon. Afterward Sally washes dishes while Alex organizes the kitchen and refrigerator. They move on to exploring the offerings of the house—books, movies, games, puzzles, so on and so forth.

They make their way outside, to the deck off the living room. The house sits near the edge of a cliff—a high rocky bluff with a narrow tongue of sand at the bottom. There are five other houses along the clifftop lane; the road that connects them to town and the local beach winds down the gentler southern slope of the hill.

It's chilly and windy, but they sit out on the deck anyhow, Sally on a bench next to the edge of the deck, leaning forward with her arms on the railing, Alex curled up in a chair nearby. They sit in silence, watching the waves below and the sun moving across the sky.

They don't head back inside until after the sun drops below the horizon and night has fallen.

****** 

The next several days are much the same—they sleep until late in the morning and then move quietly together through their day. They cook together. They walk on the beach. They play checkers. They sit on the deck and look out at the ocean.

Most of their time is spent in silence.

Alex finds the quiet comfortable, since she and Sally have never needed many words anyway.

More than that, it's nice to just be able to be. To not have to worry about what she's saying, or not saying. To not have to be mindful of someone else's temper, someone else's worries, someone else's feelings. She feels like she has space to learn how to inhabit her own skin again.

In that sense, she finds the silence comforting.

She thinks Sally does too.

****** 

One stormy afternoon, they're working on a puzzle. It's a garden scene, with lots of similar-colored flowers and shades of greenery, and it's slow going. While Alex is studying the picture on the box, Sally speaks unexpectedly.

"I always loved gardening as a child. Our whole family helped with the vegetable garden, but my mom and I also had a huge flower garden. It never felt like a chore to pull weeds and do the watering, because I was nurturing the plants and watching them grow. It was relaxing, meditative."

Sally's voice is soft compared to the howl of the wind outside, but it echoes loudly in Alex's ears. She knows there's something important in the seemingly random comments, murmurs a quiet "That sounds nice."

"Now every time I think about gardens, all I can think about is endless work. Hours spent planting and weeding and fertilizing, praying the deer and rabbits would stay away, knowing that failure would mean going hungry all winter. Being yelled at and beaten for not working fast enough or planting enough or doing enough."

Alex hears the anger and resentment behind the words. She understands why it's there, understands one more piece of what the brothers stole from her friend. She keeps her voice soft. "You have every right to hate them for taking that away from you."

Sally doesn't respond verbally, just shrugs, dark head still bowed over the puzzle. Alex knows it's probably not what a counselor would recommend, but says, "It'll take a while, but one of these days you'll be able to grow something again for your own enjoyment, without thinking of the brothers when you do it."

Sally's response is so quiet that she barely hears it. "I hope so. They've already taken too much from me."

Alex wants to ask, but something makes her hold her tongue. She hopes it's awareness that the time isn't right, rather than fear of hearing the answer.

They sit in silence for a while, poring over the puzzle. They complete a tricky section, look up at each other and smile. Alex points to the floral arch they just pieced together, asks what flowers those are. Sally tells her they're clematis. They bend over the puzzle again and Sally starts pointing out the various flowers in the picture, telling Alex what they are and talking about the ones that are her favorites.

It's not a profound conversation, but Alex sees the way the line of tension in Sally's shoulders relaxes incrementally as she talks, and she smiles to herself. 

****** 

The next day, they're sitting out on the deck, watching a seagull try to get to a specific spot on the railing despite the wind pushing him back. Sally shakes her head, says he's stubborn. The word stirs something in Alex's chest; she abruptly says she fired her therapist.

Sally says nothing, just looks at her, dark eyes warm and sympathetic. Alex finds herself blurting out the story—the way he pushed her to talk, how vulnerable his questions made her feel, her reluctance to tell him the sordid details, the way his final words to her reminded her of things Dwight had said.

She looks up when she feels a hand on her knee, sees Sally shaking her head. "A good therapist will push you, but not that quickly, not before they know you're ready. And anyone who makes you feel the same way Dwight did is not someone you should be around."

Alex closes her eyes in sudden, sharp relief. She'd known that, but had been second-guessing herself. She admits, "He did kinda make me feel like that some, when he wanted to know the specifics about how the brothers touched me...what they did when...you know..." She trails off, rallies. "But I guess I thought maybe it was just me, that I was projecting my own fears or demons onto him or something."

"Did you feel like that with anyone else?"

Alex shakes her head. "No one else asked questions quite like that. I mean, my friends know what happened, the basics, anyhow, but when they ask questions, it's generally because something's triggered a flashback and they're trying to figure out what I'm reacting to or how to help me. Or they ask how I'm feeling. Stuff like that."

She trails off again, mind working in overdrive. Slowly, she says, "I haven't felt like that with anyone else because no one else told me I had a bad attitude or that I was just being stubborn because I wasn't ready to talk."

Sally says quietly, "That's because they know you. That therapist didn't. But you'll find one who does."

Alex sighs softly, stares out at the ocean. Her friend's words are more of a relief than she'd expected.

****** 

After two weeks, Alex calls Walker. He fills her in on what's been going on in Dallas—their latest case, Carlos graduating to a walking boot, Trent getting sucked into a bar fight, Jimmy's latest get-rich-quick scheme. She finds herself laughing as he talks. It's good to hear about her friends. She's not ready to go home, but she misses them.

A couple days later, Sally calls Sarah while Alex is curled up on the couch reading. The sisters' conversation runs along similar lines. Sally smiles a lot during it.

****** 

They're watching a movie one evening when Sally abruptly bursts into tears. Alex is out of the chair and kneeling beside her friend before she's even aware she's moved. Sally stares at her for a moment, seemingly frozen, then collapses against her, sobbing.

Alex holds her close, murmurs soothing words, lets her cry. It's the first time she's ever seen her friend in tears and it's a little scary and painful to watch. But at the same time, she's grateful to be allowed to witness it. She's honored to be trusted to give Sally the same kind of comfort the other woman's given everyone else.

She has no idea how long she kneels beside her friend, holding her. She only knows that by the time the storm of emotion has passed, the TV screen has faded to snow and her knees are aching.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Sally shakes her head, then takes a deep breath and says in a small voice, "I think I need to. But not tonight. I'm..."

Sally doesn't finish the sentence, but she doesn't have to. Alex can read the rest of the words in the fatigue lining Sally's face, in the way she's shaking from the emotional drain. She holds out a hand, helps her friend to her feet, slips an arm around Sally's waist when she sways. She says, "Come on. Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll get some sleep. We can talk later."

She's grateful when Sally doesn't pull away. She leads her to their shared room, to the bathroom, helps her wash her face, then gives her space to get ready for bed. When they curl up under the covers together, Alex spoons up behind her friend, holding her close.

For tonight, she'll be the one holding the demons at bay.

****** 

The next day, Sally tells her tale in fits and starts. It's eerily similar to Alex's—being kidnapped because she caught Luke's eye, finding two women already captive at the cabin, being raped and beaten into submission, being treated more roughly than the other captives, being put to work like a pack mule and punished every time Dwight's temper flared. Similar to Alex's experience, one of Sally's fellow captives—Mae—was a worried mother type and the other—Jenny—was young and more fragile than she seemed.

And like Alex, Sally had withdrawn and turned inward as a result of what the brothers did to her, having to decide what price she was willing to pay for survival.

Unlike Alex, she second-guessed her decisions, debating whether survival was worth it.

Sally had had no hope of being found and rescued. She'd also experienced horrors far worse than anything Alex could have imagined. During Sally's first year and a half of captivity, she'd watched Jenny die slowly from an illness, watched as Clara, Jenny's "replacement," fought back and tried to escape at every turn, only to be broken down piece by piece. Then Mae got sick and Sally had tried to nurse her back to health, while also taking care of Clara as the worsening punishments took their toll.

Weeks later, both women were dead and Sally was alone in the cabin at the mercy of three furious brothers.

Alex shudders as she hears the remembered revulsion in Sally's voice.

There's a measurable pause before her friend speaks again, tone heavy with defeat, admitting she wanted to die too. Alex watches silently as Sally gets off the couch and walks over to stare out the window. The dark-haired woman's voice grows distant as she says that by then, she was so broken down that she didn't have the courage or strength to try to escape again. Death was her only way out.

"I was lying in a bloody heap on the floor one night after Dwight beat the hell out of me for...I don't even know what. Living like that any longer just seemed pointless. If I'd been able to move, I'd have gotten Buddy's hunting knife and slit my wrists. And then I heard Mae's voice in my head. It was something she'd told me early on, something I hadn't really listened to at the time. She said that every time she thought there was no reason to keep living, she remembered that if she was gone, no one would be there for the other women—to take care of them and try to protect them."

Sally's staring blindly at the rapidly sinking sun, tears streaming down her face. Alex gets out of her chair and walks up behind her. She wraps her arms around her friend, her own face wet with tears.

Sally doesn't react to her presence, simply continues talking in a low monotone. "I knew with a man like Dwight, there would be other women. I decided that night that doing for others what Mae had done for me and for the rest of us was reason enough to keep going, reason enough to survive. And then Dwight went out and captured Vanessa, and I finally knew I'd made the right choice."

Silence falls then. Alex stands behind the other woman, holding her, as they both stare out at the darkening sky, their tears slowing, then stopping. She feels Sally lean back slightly against her and is glad she can do something—no matter how small—to support her friend.

After a while, Alex says quietly, "I wish you'd never had to make that decision. But don't ever say you lack courage. It took courage and strength to make the choice to keep living when death would have been easier. Don't ever forget that. You're an amazing person and I, for one, am glad you're still here." She pauses for a moment, then continues, "I don't think I'd have made it through my captivity without you. I appreciate everything you did to take care of me. I don't think I've told you that enough."

Sally starts crying again, sobbing softly, and Alex kisses the back of her head before saying gently, "And while I don't think Vanessa really realizes just what you did for her, I do. It's because of you that she's able to go back to her life with a minimum of scars—both physical and emotional."

She hears Sally chuckle through her tears. "I'm not the only one who helped with that."

Alex snorts in amusement. "It was a big job. You needed to expand the department."

They both start laughing uncontrollably. Sally pulls out of her arms to lean against the sliding glass door; Alex moves to the side to lean against the wall. Alex can hear the slight edge of hysteria in Sally's laughter, thinks it's entirely understandable, given the charged nature of their conversation and the emotions the other woman has been suppressing for far too long.

She knows venting feelings is a good start towards healing. She's grateful that Sally seems to have had a breakthrough.

****** 

The next day finds Alex doing the talking as they sit together on the couch. Though Sally already knows most of her story, she tells her friend some of the details she hasn't been willing to divulge to anyone else. She's heartened by the sympathy and understanding in dark eyes, saddened by the knowledge in them that tells her Sally was violated in the same ways she was.

She talks about how it was the hope of her friends coming to find her that kept her going, about how they've always come through for her. Sally is visibly upset by the revelation that Alex has been kidnapped more times than she can count, that it's not the first time Alex has been beaten up or slapped around by someone holding her captive, though those other times pale in comparison to what the brothers did.

Alex tries to soothe her friend, stops dead in her tracks with her mouth hanging open as she recognizes just how much she's been affected by those past traumas. And as she remembers that part of what affected her this time was the sobering realization of just how ugly those other situations would have gotten if not for Walker being there to rescue her.

"Are you angry that he wasn't there to save you this time?"

Alex shakes her head, not even having to think about it. "I was a little bit in the beginning, when I was recovering from the first whipping. But I realized that was unfair to him, and I worked through it pretty quickly. My luck was bound to run out sometime. What happened was no more his fault than mine."

She sees the hint of a smile on Sally's face, realizes her friend already knew the answer, but asked the question to make sure she knew it too. She offers a tiny smile in return. It slides off quickly as her thoughts go back to her new awareness. The situation with the brothers wasn't the most traumatic of the bunch solely because of what they did, bad as it was, but because what they did also dredged up memories she'd buried and tried to forget.

She tells Sally about Tony Seville and Lane Tillman. About Max Kale. About Dewey Baker. About Victor LaRue.

She's trembling and in tears before she finishes, and is grateful for the supportive arm around her back and the warm shoulder to cry on.

She's suddenly exhausted, feeling like she's just run a marathon or something. Pulling slightly out of Sally's embrace, she glances up at her friend's face and sees the same exhaustion lurking in dark eyes. She chuckles then, through her tears, sees the confused look Sally gives her.

Alex manages to sit up straight, hiccups, and says simply, "Do you know we've talked more in the past two days than we did in the entire four plus months we were captives?"

Sally cocks her head to the side, gives a crooked smile. "It wasn't the time or the place then. But I know what you mean. Catharsis is draining."

Alex chuckles again. "True story. Besides feeling like I could sleep for a week, I feel like I could eat a horse."

Sally laughs. "I think we have something a bit tastier than that. Go wash your face; I'll make us some lunch...er...dinner."

As Alex makes her way to the bathroom, she feels lighter than she has in a very long time—like she's released a weight she hadn't really known she was carrying.

For the first time, she feels as though she's solidly on the road to healing and she's confident she will get her life back. It's a good feeling.

****** 

Over the next couple of weeks, they intersperse walks on the beach, watching movies, and doing puzzles with lots of conversation. There's some talk about their ordeals, about how they were affected by them then, about how they're feeling now. There's more talk about their lives before they were kidnapped.

Alex talks about her job, her friends, their various adventures, her relationship with Walker. Sally is, predictably, not quite as talkative, but she shares memories of her mom, tells stories of the fun times she and Sarah had growing up, mentions some of her hobbies.

Alex calls Walker every few days, tells him what they've been doing, listens to his tales of life in Texas. There's laughter and there's teasing. It feels good. It feels like old times.

Sally calls Sarah a couple of times. The phone calls aren't long, but they're filled with cryptic, knowing comments that clearly mean something to both women, but make no sense at all to Alex. She just rolls her eyes.

****** 

They're sitting on the deck one sunny afternoon. Alex gets up and paces. She's restless, but she doesn't want to take a walk, doesn't want to go down to the beach, doesn't know what she wants to do.

Sally's leaning back in a chair with her feet up on the railing. "Maybe it's time for you to go back home."

Alex stops in front of the railing, crosses her arms on top of it and leans forward. She stares at the ocean beyond, considering the words. "I think maybe it is," she says slowly. "Much as I like it here, I miss the prairie—I miss Walker's ranch and the woodlands beyond. I miss taking walks in the park and going horseback riding. I miss the excitement of the big city. I miss my friends. I miss my job."

She pauses for a moment as she's hit with the revelation. "I miss my life."

She hears movement, isn't surprised when Sally comes to stand right beside her, pressing their arms together. Her friend doesn't say anything, and after a moment, Alex asks, "What about you? Are you ready to go back?"

Sally's tone is dry. "Unlike you, I don't exactly have a life to go back to."

Alex turns her head, not entirely sure how to interpret that, finds Sally watching her with a wry smile on her face. "It's not a judgment, Alex. It's just reality. I don't have roots in Santa Rosa."

"Your sister is there. Your dad."

Sally stares back out at the ocean. "They are. But as much as I love them, they've created their own lives there. It's not exactly fair to them for me to try and horn in on that just because I don't have anywhere else to go."

Alex is confused by this turn in the conversation. She's suddenly concerned that maybe her friend is not coping with things as well as she'd thought.

Sally speaks softly. "I want to stay here. I've fallen in love with this place, with the ocean, in a way I'd never expected. Santa Rosa is nice enough, but it's not where I want to be. I already know my dad and Sarah won't have a problem with me living here. With me making this my home. Since I'm starting over from scratch, I may as well put down roots in a place I feel safe and comfortable. You know?"

The words blow Alex's worries away as if they were smoke, and she smiles brightly. "I do know. And I'm glad you have a place where you feel safe and secure."

They stand there in silence for a few minutes, then Sally says, "I'll go call Sarah. She'll probably get all the arrangements made before you even have time to pack." They both laugh knowingly.

As her friend slips back into the house, Alex stands there, staring off into the distance. She's glad she came out here. She's even gladder that she's eager to go back home.

****** 

Epilogue

It's almost a year to the day before Alex makes it back to California again.

Sarah offers to pick her up at the airport and drive her to the beach house, but Alex declines. She rents a car, takes her time exploring the coastline, enjoying the scenery of the drive.

When she arrives at the house, she stands staring at the front door for a moment, uncertain whether she should knock or just walk on in. Before she can debate it too long, the door swings open and she sees Sally leaning against the doorjamb, looking amused. Alex grins at her, then stands there hesitantly, hands in her pockets. Normally, she'd offer a hug, but it's been a long time since they've seen each other and she's aware that her friend tends to be a lot more reserved than she is.

Sally resolves her dilemma by pushing away from the door and stepping forward to wrap her in a bear hug. Alex relaxes into it, hugging her back, and they hold the embrace for almost a minute.

Alex can't stop smiling as she follows her friend into the house. She's really missed Sally.

Sally gives her her choice of guest rooms and she picks the one next to the living room with a door that connects to the deck. She drops her luggage on the floor of the bedroom and opens the curtains to stare out at the view. By the time she unpacks a few things and makes her way back to the kitchen, Sally's brewed a pot of coffee and filled two mugs. Looking around, Alex smiles when she sees two African violets sitting in the kitchen windowsill.

They head out to the deck and Alex takes a deep breath, the tang of the salt air instantly relaxing her. They sit in companionable silence for a moment, sipping their coffee, then Sally asks, "Stressful week?"

Alex gives a rueful laugh. "More like stressful month. All work related stuff, thankfully."

Sally nods. "Yeah, sounded like your caseload was driving you bananas." There's a short pause before the dark-haired woman continues, "Talked to Nessa this morning. She says to say hi. She started school this semester—she and two of her sisters are sharing an apartment near campus. And she's got a boyfriend—her brother set her up with one of his friends and they hit it off immediately. She sounds like a lovesick teenager, honestly. If it wasn't so cute, it would be nauseating."

Alex laughs at the mock note of disgust in Sally's voice. She and Vanessa have fallen out of touch in the past several months, so she's glad to hear the update.

She says, "I'll try not to sound too much like a lovesick teen when I tell you that I think Walker's finally ready to set a wedding date."

She glances over to see Sally nodding in approval. "Took him long enough."

Rolling her eyes, Alex chuckles in agreement. Sally's heard all about their years-long on-again-off-again-on-again journey, and about Walker's fear of commitment. Most people would have assumed his reason for continuing to wait had to do with her captivity and subsequent recovery; Sally knows that was only the smallest piece of the puzzle.

Alex clears her throat. "Since we're on the subject, what about you? Is there anyone you're interested in?"

She's still glancing at Sally, so sees the way the woman hunches up her shoulders. There's silence for a long moment, before Sally says quietly, "I'm not healed enough to think about dating or relationships yet. Just the thought of being that close to someone brings back some bad memories. You know."

Alex keeps her voice soft and soothing. "I do." She'd had a stable relationship with Walker before the kidnapping, and it had still taken nearly six months after her return home for her to be comfortable with anything more intimate than fully clothed cuddling. She continues, "Believe me, I understand." She's relieved when she sees her friend's shoulders relax.

Sally sighs. "Sarah's concerned. I keep telling her I'm okay, that it will be okay. That I just need time."

Alex says, "It's a big step after something so traumatic. You want to be sure you're ready for it."

Sally nods emphatically. "Exactly." There's a pause, then the woman's tone turns dry. "Besides, there are worse things in the world than being single."

Alex laughs at that, agrees.

They fall silent for a while, each busy with their own thoughts. Through their phone calls, they already know most of what's going on with each other. Alex found a therapist she connected with and is back to being busy with work and her friends and the HOPE Center. Sally's working part-time at an art gallery in the next town over, and she's taken up painting, one of the hobbies she and her mom shared.

Alex has worried a bit about her friend over the past few months. From what she's gathered from their conversations, Sally is still quiet and reclusive, having only a few friends, spending a lot of time on her own. But seeing her now, Alex's worries are calmed. Sally doesn't appear to be haunted or troubled. The dark-haired woman looks good and seems content. She tells her so.

Sally looks at her inquisitively for a moment, like she's trying to figure out where the comment came from. Alex just watches her, sees when the pieces come together. Sally shrugs. "Yeah, I'm a bit of a hermit these days. But honestly, I've always been something of a loner. I mean, you've met my dad, right?"

They share a chuckle before Sally continues, "I'm not like you and Nessa. I can't go back to being the person I was before. Too much happened. There are too many scars. But that doesn't mean that I don't like the person I am now or that my life is ruined."

She pauses there, fixes Alex with an intense stare. "I came out of that nightmare in one piece, and I got a second chance at life, at happiness. I have work that I love, a handful of genuine friends, a supportive family, a beautiful place to live, and a friendship with you that means more than I can put into words."

Alex blushes and says softly, "Your friendship is one of the best things in my life, too. Having someone who truly understands who I am and what I've overcome is...priceless."

Sally smiles gently. "Ditto. The point is that this"—she waves her hand in the air, encompassing everything—"is a better outcome than I ever could have dreamed of. My life will never be the same as it was. I can't change that. But it doesn't mean that what I have now is less than what I had before. It's just different. I'm healing, slowly but surely. I'm living life on my own terms and I'm at peace. That's more than a lot of people in this world can say."

Alex leans forward in her chair, reaches out, places a hand on her friend's arm. "I'm happy to hear it," she says sincerely. Sally smiles at her.

The conversation lapses then, as they fall back into their familiar pattern of quiet. Sally stares out at the ocean. Alex sits back and lets her own gaze drift to the horizon.

Sally's words echo in her mind and she realizes there's a lot of wisdom in them. While she's pretty much just picked up her life as though she'd never left it, Alex knows that it's not exactly the same as it was before because she's not exactly the same. And that doesn't mean it's bad, just that it's different, as Sally said.

She would have happily lived out her days without enduring the ordeal at the hands of the brothers. She would never choose to go through that again if given a choice. But she's also aware that without it, she wouldn't have this friendship that has become so central to her life. She and Walker wouldn't have gotten quite as deep into some conversations about love and trust and boundaries, conversations that have only brought them closer together. And she wouldn't have learned some of the things she has about herself—about her strength, her ability to endure, her capacity for understanding and compassion.

Good and bad. Light and shadow. Joy and sorrow. Hope and despair.

Yin and yang.

Life in all its dizzying, wondrous complexity.

Neither of them can change the past, those paths that have led them to where they are now and made them into the people they are today. But the present and the future are theirs, to write in whatever way they choose.

She's looking forward to seeing what the next chapter holds.

The End


End file.
